Dead Wrong Read online

  Scrap stands up and heads my way. I shrink into the cushions, but I know I have nowhere to hide.

  Scrap thrusts a bottle at me. Up close his teeth are yellow and pointy. “Maybe you like the harder stuff.” I take the bottle before he drops it and my hand falls with it, barely grasping the neck.

  He smirks at me. “Drink up, princess.”

  His words are a challenge. Suddenly it seems like the music is not as loud and all eyes are on me.

  “What? You too good for moonshine? You too good for us, maybe? Miss high and mighty slumming with the oogles? You want to hang out with us when Pretty Boy is around, but you think you’re too good for the rest of us, huh?”

  He leans in, his yellow teeth suddenly inches away from my face. I can smell his sour, nasty breath. His eyes are bloodshot and crazy looking.

  “Drink up or get the fuck out.” His voice is a low growl.

  It’s not my imagination. This time the room really does grow silent.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  If I’m ever going to be part of Raven’s world, I’m going to have to prove myself.

  Scrap turns to bellow some more to the room about how I’m such a princess I’ll never drink moonshine. His back is turned, blocking my hand from everyone else when I feel the bottle taken out of my palm and replaced by a small beer bottle of something. It’s Flip. He winks at me and nods at the bottle. “Here, drink this. It tastes better and is not as harsh.”

  I smile my thanks and just as Scrap turns back around, I tilt the beer bottle to my lips and chug it. A few people cheer me on. I don’t stop until I’ve counted to the beat of five. Then, slowly I lower the bottle, lick my lips and without taking my eyes off of Scrap, hand it back to Flip.

  “Good girl,” he says.

  A vein in Scrap’s neck pulses as his eyes narrow. Then a small smile spreads across his face. He leans in and whispers in my ear. “You think that proves anything? Let’s up the ante a little and see what happens. You aren’t fooling anyone.”

  I ignore him and stand to dance with Flip and Jazz to a song from the Ramones. After the song ends, I fall back on the futon laughing. It feels so good to just let loose.

  But then I suddenly feel really weak and dizzy and like I might barf. I only drank two bottles of beer. Where is Raven? I wish everyone would leave and I could just close my eyes and listen to music on this futon with him lying beside me.

  After a few seconds, Scrap sits down beside me. I try to scoot away but he presses his leg against mine and withdraws a needle out of a small pouch out of his bag. I shrink away. He holds the needle in the air and stares at it as if he is contemplating the origin of the universe.

  “Want to play with the big kids, do you?”

  I ignore him.

  But then he gently draws the needle along my arm. I freeze, terrified, afraid to move. Where is Raven? I see Jazz and Flip in the corner talking to someone else. Nobody would see if he just jabbed the needle in me. I can’t tell if it has something inside it or not.

  He laughs and suddenly the needle is no longer touching my arm.

  I jump up, dizzy and unsteady on my feet, and rush into the tiny bathroom. I close the door and lean against it, my heart racing. The small room feels like it is rocking — as if I’m in an airplane bathroom during turbulence. Closing my eyes makes it worse. Before I know it, I’m leaning over, retching into the toilet. I puke until a thin stream of yellow bile is all that comes out and then I retch some more.

  Finally, when I’m done, I get some toilet paper wet and wipe my face. I take a dab of toothpaste from a tube off the counter and rinse out my mouth. I look in the mirror, planting my palms on the side of the sink.

  In my reflection in the dirty mirror, my cheeks are flushed, my eyes bright. I don’t recognize myself. I squint my eyes at the blurry, spinning face in the mirror. It goes in and out of focus.

  The girl in the mirror doesn’t look like she nearly died from an eating disorder. She doesn’t look like a girl who scrapes up her pennies to go buy a new shirt at the thrift store. Or a girl who lives in a house in the bad part of town with bars on the windows.

  Where is the girl who secretly watched Danielle all these years, not always with love but sometimes with envy — pulsing, sickening jealousy?

  That girl is dead.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  When I come out of the bathroom, Scrap is over in the corner talking to someone, so I plop on the futon. I’m so tired all of a sudden, I could sleep right here with all the activity and noise. Within seconds, Scrap is beside me again.

  He dumps the contents of a small pouch onto the futon between us. I take in the needle again and a spoon and scrap of fabric.

  Scrap. I wonder if that’s how he got his name? My thoughts are jumbled. Instead of feeling better after I threw up, I feel even more drunk. All of a sudden it seems like it would take a monumental effort to stand up again. What is wrong with me? Where is Raven?

  “Your turn, princess.”

  I stare glassy eyed at him. My head is spinning a little and my hearing seems distorted. What is wrong? Is this what it’s like to be drunk? No way. This is something worse.

  Scrap leans in to my ear and whispers the words.

  “You think you’re better than him, do you?”

  I watch blurry eyed as he arranges what looks like a cotton ball and a spoon and a tiny clump of brownish stuff that looks like dirt in the middle of the spoon.

  My heart is racing and my mouth is suddenly dry when I try to swallow. The shadows from the candles seem sinister, bouncing around like there is a dirt devil while the air around me feels preternaturally still.

  I hear the hiss of a lighter.

  Scrap is still busy with the drug stuff.

  His brow is furrowed with concentration.

  A slight vinegary smell drifts over, mingling with the scent of Raven’s cinnamon scented candles burning in a pile on the small table.

  Suddenly Flip is at my side and he’s helping Scrap. He ties something tight around my arm. The scrap of fabric. His fingers brush the side of my breast as he does so. I try to push him away but my arm won’t move. I try to say “No,” but only a small sound comes out. Flip leans in close and whispers. “You sure about this?”

  He’s here to stop Scrap from shooting me up. Hope fills me, but when I try to shake my head no. I try to scream, but nothing comes out. My eyes widen in panic, but he just smiles at me

  I swallow back the bile filling my throat and try to nod but my head won’t move.

  “Okay, if you’re sure,” Flip says and tightens the scrap of fabric, twisting it until the only thing I feel is the blood pulsing in that arm, hot and fierce and throbbing. My blood is pounding loudly in my ears, thumping with my heartbeat. My mouth feels numb and slack like I’ve had a shot of Novocain.

  The door slams open and Scrap and Flip jump back as Raven’s face appears.

  He takes it all in and rushes over to us, pushing Scrap and Flip away. “What the fuck is going on?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Raven and I are alone on his futon. The candles have burned low. I can move again.

  He kicked everyone out hours ago. It took him thirty minutes to calm down. I fell into a deep sleep and just woke now, sometime in the middle of the night.

  Raven is pacing the room, still upset. His shadows flickering on the walls.

  When he saw I was awake, he crouched down and lifted a water glass to my lips. I drank it greedily. I finally felt better. More normal again. Still a little shaky, though.

  “I can’t fucking believe he was going to shoot you up? What the fuck is wrong with him?” he said, pacing his small studio.

  “I couldn’t move,” I say in a quiet voice. “I wanted them to stop.”

  “How much did you drink?”

  “Only two beers.” It doesn’t make sense. The one beer before Raven left and the one Flip gave me.

  “You have to be really careful. Oogles, they have a high tolerance. Th
ey will drink booze, moonshine, and white lightning that would kill someone else. Don’t touch anything they offer. Promise me?”

  I shrug. He leans in and smooths my hair back from my forehead. “I have to tell you something.”

  It feels like my heart has stopped. I know I’m holding my breath.

  Danielle? He knows what happened to her. That’s where he was tonight?

  “I’m leaving town at the end of August.”

  “What?”

  I sit up.

  “This place,” he gestures around him. “They’re kicking me out then, plus we always leave town in the winter. We head out in the fall for the Sugar Beet Harvest I told you about. I’m the only one who really has a regular place to stay. Flip and Jazz and Scrap – they all crash on couches and sometimes even in the woods by the lake.”

  You can’t leave.

  But I don’t say it. I don’t say anything. He watches me for a second and then lies back down and closes his eyes.

  August. I have until the end of August to convince him to stay. The clock is ticking. I lean over to the radio and put on The Verve and lean back, my head resting in the crook between his chest and outstretched arm.

  “Bitter Sweet Symphony” filters through the room. It makes me happy, sad and hopeful all at once.

  When the album is almost over I notice that Raven has fallen asleep beside me. It feels like I spend hours staring at his face, his long eyelashes falling onto his cheekbones even though I know it is only moments. I lean down and kiss his forehead very, very softly. I don’t want him to leave.

  Plus, he can’t go yet — he has to help me figure out what happened to Danielle.

  The cops have closed her case. Everyone has forgotten about her but him and me. I won’t. I promised her. While she lay in her coffin, dead, I promised her I’d find out what happened and make it right.

  I curl up beside him and freeze as he rolls over and wraps his arms around me from behind. I barely breathe, afraid he is going to pull away. I gently take his hand and press it to my mouth, inhaling his scent and kissing it before I tuck it under my arm.

  When I open my eyes next, a golden ray of sunshine seeps through the one high window. I’m trying to memorize, soak up, this feeling — having Raven’s arms wrapped around me as he sleeps pressed up against me. I dreamily imagine bringing him home and introducing him to my mom. Maybe my mom will turn out to be totally cool about me having a boyfriend and will even let him stay the night at our house sometimes.

  I can’t imagine anything much better than falling asleep in his arms like I did this morning. But then I remember what he told me — he’s leaving. I close my eyes. No. He can’t leave. I only just found him.

  He stirs and opens one sleepy eye.

  “How you feeling?”

  “Kind of cruddy physically, but otherwise, good,” I mumble it into his sleeve.

  “I’m still so mad about last night,” he says, leaning over and lighting a cigarette. “I should’ve never left you alone.”

  “Where were you?”

  He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I wanted to surprise you. I had to take the bus over to Tangletown to get it. Some guy on Craig’s List. I had no idea it would take that long.”

  He puts something in my hands.

  It’s a book. It’s the first edition Salome I told him about that day by the lake.

  I stare at it. That’s why he didn’t want me to go with him?

  I’m not just some stupid girl. He bought me this book. I grab the back of his head and pull him close, kissing him so long I get dizzy. He pulls back laughing.

  “I take it you like it?”

  “Love, love, love it!”

  A big smile spreads across his face and then his brow furrows and he stands.

  He starts to pace. “I should have never left you alone. I thought Flip would have been smarter. Or Jazz. I had no idea they’d brought smack and let that fuck into my place. My place.”

  “Did Danielle do heroin? Did she?”

  He gives me a sideways glance. “Emily, I swear, if she did, I didn’t know anything about it.”

  I have to believe him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  It’s Friday night and I’ve had a shower and am dressed, ready to go as soon as I hear from Raven. My mom invites me to sit and watch a movie, but I sit in my room waiting for Raven to call or text. I stare at my phone, willing it to ping or ring.

  I haven’t seen him all week and his texts were few and far in between. What was going on? A roil of jealousy and insecurity makes my stomach twist.

  When I think about how hard he pursued Danielle, white-hot jealousy floods through my body. Why isn’t he chasing me? What about me is different than Danielle? Maybe I need to lose some weight. Maybe he liked her body better than mine?

  I clean my room again, straightening and fixing everything even though it is already immaculate. I take the picture off my mirror and study it, wondering what Danielle felt like when she was in Raven’s arms. I bet she didn’t sit around waiting for him to call her. She probably went out with another boy or went to a party or something.

  But I can only fight back a sob and a rising sense of panic filling my chest. I dig around in my bag for the other picture of Danielle, but remember it’s not there. I only have a few things left of Danielle and that picture is one of them. It makes me want to run and get on the bus and ask the driver if he found the photo. And then I could see Raven, too.

  I glance at the clock. It’s getting late and he hasn’t called yet. Friday is our night. Every week, I lie to my mom and say I’m with Curtis. When I see the time — 11 p.m., I realize I can’t leave now. It’s too late. Unless I sneak out, I won’t be able to see Raven again even if he does call.

  I fall asleep in my dress on top of my covers.

  A few hours later, the chirping of my phone wakes me up.

  A text.

  From Raven.

  Miss you.

  I wait for something else — some reason why he didn’t call me tonight. Some explanation or apology. But there is nothing. I clutch the phone to my chest and fall asleep.

  The next morning is Saturday. My mom is out of the house early. As soon as the weather heats up, she likes to spend most of her weekends with Sam at the lake. I don’t blame her.

  She left me a note. French toast is warming in the oven.

  I grab a new trash bag and scoop up all the pieces of French toast but one. I break off a few tiny pieces and then spill a little bit of syrup on them before I put them in the trash can — on top of the broken egg shells and cream container.

  Then I grab my bag and head for Uptown.

  RAVEN IS WAITING FOR me. He texted me while I was in the shower telling me to bring my suit and meet him at the bench at the lake where he saw me reading Flannery O’Connor. Right by where Danielle drowned. Why? Is he going to finally tell me what happened to her that night?

  But when I see him, all thoughts of Danielle disappear. I stop myself from skipping over to him. He grabs my chin and kisses me so hard I forget where I am. I stop myself from asking what he did last night. What if he told me he was with another girl? I won’t be able to stand it. Danielle would never have acted like that — jealous or insecure.

  “I want to show you this really cool little beach,” he said after he pulls back. “We call it the Secret Beach.”

  I’m still a little breathless and disoriented from his kiss so I only nod.

  He takes my hand and tugs me behind him as we go to the head of the tiny path that weaves through the brush to the beach where they found Danielle. I stop, unsure if I can go down there.

  He turns, raising one eyebrow.

  I close my eyes and swallow. All I can see are blue and red strobe lights flashing on horror stricken faces while two men carry Danielle’s body away in a big black bag.

  I tug free and run away.

  “Danielle!”

  Her name coming out of his mouth makes me freeze for a split s
econd. She did mean more to him than he told me. I was right. I run, tears and my hair blinding me. He catches me right near the bench and pulls me in close, patting my head. I am stiff in his arms.

  He finally realizes this and pulls back, tilting my chin up toward him.

  “I’m sorry. I think I have some explaining to do,” he says. He pulls me down on the bench beside him. “I can’t believe I called you that,” He runs his fingers through his hair and then buries his face in his hands. “I’ve been thinking about her all morning.”

  I pull back.

  “But not for the reasons you think. I need to find out what happened to her, too. Because there is something about that night I didn’t tell you.”

  My skin feels icy cold. Did he lie? Did he have something to do with her death?”

  “I told you we argued that night, right? Well, what I didn’t tell you was that I broke up with her that night,” he said. “She wanted to take off and go home. I told her it was late, that she needed to wait until morning. She curled up beside me, I fell asleep and when I woke she was gone. The next thing I heard of her, she was dead. I can’t help but feel that somehow that was my fault. I should’ve got up and walked her to her car or driven her home or something. She must’ve got up in the night upset and that’s how she died. I think it was my fault.”

  I reach out for his hand. “No, it wasn’t your fault. Whatever happened after you fell asleep wasn’t your fault. But I don’t understand? Why did you break up?”

  “It was going too fast. And I knew I was leaving town. And now, I’ve met you and I’m still leaving town. God, now I’ve fucked everything up.” He runs his fingers through his hair again as if he is trying to pull it out by the roots. His eyes are wild and darting around not meeting mine.

  I try to take in what he is saying. He broke up with Danielle because it was going too fast and he was leaving town and now he’s in the same boat with me? But then fear shoots through me, as well. He broke up with her because he was leaving town.